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It is what you read when you don’t have to that determines what you will be when you can’t help it.
― Oscar Wilde

One of the advantages of being a frequent flyer is that it gives you precious time to concentrate on reading. And yes, I like to ignore the fact that many flights now offer the ‘benefit’ of in flight wifi. I prefer (vastly) the benefit of in flight disconnection from the world of work. It is (or was) one of the last few bastions of serenity and a place to hide from all those ‘whatsapp’ groups people seem to think aid communication at work. Don’t even get me started on that last one, it could become a post in itself and lead to unintended consequences.

Reading is one of the most precious gifts that we can give our children.

I remember when I was around about six years old that one of my favourite places of refuge was the ‘box room’ in my grandmother’s house in Rawtenstall. Actually, I think the box room had in fact been a place that my father was stored in as opposed to boxes but, no matter, it was a special place for me. It contained what at that age I felt to be an impressive library of books that opened up a whole world outside the (then) grim confines of Rawtenstall. The town’s buildings in those days were blackened with soot and the river that flowed behind my school stank of goodness knows what, concerns about pollution seemed a world away, and in many ways they were. The town at that stage was suffering from post industrial decline and its place in the world – defined by the dark satanic mills that once produced shoes and cotton for the Empire – was doubtful. And that is why those books were so important to me.

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The clue to this post is in the title, which is a clumsy attempt to wrap multiple concepts into a single pithy phrase.

Among my resolutions this year were to write and shoot more. Rather dismally I have failed to respond well to my own resolutions. This does of course make choosing next year’s resolutions so much easier, as I plan to have another go.

However, I am happy to report that I have read a lot this year. And I will write about that also. In due course, the fullness of time, and so on.

I have also travelled a great deal. A very great deal. And, that is also something I intend to write about on the same terms as above.

I am not comfortable with my personal carbon footprint this year. So, trees will need to be planted. Probably enough to stock a decent sized hillside.

What prompted this post was my need to share (other than on my FB page) my journey home.

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this seat is mine
mine, for the time
it takes
to cross, the
desert
to cross,
from there
to
here,
a part, of me
is no
longer
mine
lost
with all the
other
parts,
along,
the way
lost
by all, those
others, who
said
this seat, is mine

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This post features a diminutive lady called Lucy, an emperor by the name of Haile, a few flip-flop wearing parasol bearing clerics, the Red Terror, Sylvia the suffragette, some spicy sauce, and St. George (or at least an eponymous beer).

In framing his challenge Ben suggested that we ‘share a photo that takes a familiar scene — a place you frequent, a face you know well, an activity you engage in regularly — and makes it look and feel like something out of this world’.

I’ve always had a slight problem in answering the (right) question, or at least reading the question and then coming up with an appropriate answer.

In any event, Ben also said ‘Feel free to interpret the theme as loosely as you see fit. I look forward to seeing your photos!’. So, in a lazy moment, characterised by a certain slice of synchronicity, I found a hook for framing a post that I was going to write anyway.

The problem with my world at the moment is that the places I frequent fluctuate with a frenetic and feverish frequency. And the activity that I seem to engage in with the greatest frequency is that of being a frequent flyer.

Which is a rather long-winded way of sharing some snaps from my latest adventure. It’s not ‘out of this world’ but it was a new part of the world for me.